


mambo sun

by liamnoel



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Liam on his knees, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Sibling Incest, Smut, is anyone noticing a theme?, old af story, oof this is bad, shamefully ooc, surprisingly no angst???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamnoel/pseuds/liamnoel
Summary: Beneath the mambo sunI've got to be the oneFor you.1988-?





	1. burnage

**Author's Note:**

> hey, this is the first oasis story i ever wrote, over 2 years ago! so bc of that the quality is surely lacking lol. but i just found it on my computer after forgetting about it completely, so i figured i'd upload it. i always intended to write 5 chapters for this, but i doubt i'll ever go back and finish it tbh
> 
> hope yall enjoy, feedback welcome etc etc

**_I._ _Burnage_**

I was shy. He was not.

When I talked to girls I cast my eyes to the ground every so often, sometimes spoiling my chances, thought of as some odd geezer. When he talked to girls – when he talked to anyone, really – his eyes went right through ‘em, in the same moment terrifying and breathtaking. His eyes went right through me.

I was quiet. He was not.

I kept to myself, fighting sometimes when I felt it necessary, shouting sometimes when I felt it necessary, but for the most part engrossed in my mind. He was the same way, sometimes – but most of the time he was screaming, kicking, laughing, spitting, cursing up and down. Sometimes he’d calm down – sometimes he was with me, and he seemed perfectly at ease, engrossed in his mind, engrossed in my mind. Was it me or was it you?

I was ashamed. He was not.

I know because I’d try and keep quiet when I did it. When I bit my sleeve to stifle my groans, thinking of my sixteen-year-old brother, those nice lips and long eyelashes, pretty blue eyes, my Liam. _I love you, yeah, Noel?,_ he’d said earlier that day, then curled up practically on top of me, on my bed. Out of fucking nowhere. And while I felt the slow push of his breath on the side of my neck, my heart beating so hard it seemed to be trying to reach his, I resented him, the source of my guilt, of my shame. _I love you, too, Liam,_ I’d thought, too terrified to say it out loud, too ashamed to even say a thing.

The concept of shame didn’t exist to Liam, though. I know because he sure as hell wasn’t biting his sleeve. Not ever, and not that night either, the night I knew I couldn’t turn back.

●●●

I hear his moans coming from the toilet. Shameless. It was like this almost every night; the rustle of bedsheets, the _click_ of the closing door and then he was breathing and sighing and gasping so loudly I could picture him there, leaning against the wall, wet hand and weak knees and blue eyes squeezed tight shut. I’m hard against the blanket now. Another wave of guilt crashes into me and I roll over towards the wall, willing away every disgusting bloody thought that’s ever come to my mind.

Abruptly, music begins to play. Liam’s back, and he’s put on _Electric Warrior_.

“ _Noel!”_

No.

“ _Noooooel…”_

No.

“I know y’can hear me, prick.”

I’m annoyed, I’m miserable, I’m helpless against his words. Sighing, I turn onto my other side to face him where he stands across the room, leant against the edge of his bed. “And what the fuck do you want?”

He shrugs, biting at his thumbnail. “Dunno. Just trying to be friendly, right.”

I roll my eyes.

“It’s half three in the fuckin’ morning, Liam. Go to bed.” I begin to turn back over, but his voice stops me.

“We’ve got the same eyes, you and me.” Looking back at him, he’s still stood the same way; not his usual stance. Far too self-conscious, as if he wanted to shrink against the frame, be small again, be my kid brother again, not some dirty dream, not some–

“D’you hear me? We’ve got the same–“

“Yeah, yeah, I fuckin’ heard you, alright? We’ve both got blue eyes, fuckin’ congratulations, you really outdone yourself this time, kid.”

He glances up, eyes lidded, slivers of blue visible in the moonlight. “Don’t ‘ave to be a cunt about it.”

I don’t respond. I have nothing to say, because I know if I give in, he’ll keep talking, and soon I’ll be in too deep, I don’t want to see our eyes as the same, kid, I want to see us as two separate beings, brothers and that’s all, maybe I wish my eyes were fuckin’ brown, so we’d not be alike but he’d get to keep those beautiful blue eyes–

“Sometimes I look at meself in the mirror, right, starin’ into it, an’ when I get real close an’ stare at my eyes, I pretend they’re yours.”

I’m dumbfounded. I can’t find it in me to respond. Now he’s straightening up. Now he’s walking over. Now he’s pushed my legs aside so he can perch on the edge of my bed. He looks straight ahead for a bit, then back to me, and when he blinks my mind conjures up a split second of him in the bathroom, eyes wide shut.

“Do you love me?”

I sigh. “Do you have to ask, kid? Yeah, I s’pose I fuckin’ love you, seein’ as you’re my brother an’ all. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

“S’not what I mean.”

My blood feels cold. I gulp. “Isn’t it?” I curse myself internally for egging him on. This is what he wants. He wants me to respond, to play whatever little game he’s designed for himself today, one called _Let’s Fuckin’ Torture Our Older Brother, Right, Say Things We’ve Got No Reason to Say and Generally Just Put His Head in a State._

“I was thinking of you, just now, in the bathroom, y’know. An’ I know you heard me, too, don’t bother sayin’ you weren’t listening cos I know you were. Gettin’ real fuckin’ sick of this now, Noel…” he trailed off, once again staring straight ahead.

 _I’m sorry, what?_ “Why’re you tellin’ me this? I don’t need to know anything about your wanking habits, thanks. Keep ‘em to yourself.” I feel sick.

Instead of taking the hint and going back to his own bed like a mature, sane person, he flops onto his stomach, scooting up so he can rest his chin on his hands, turning his head towards me. “I think I love you, like, more than a brother, y’know?”

I shut my eyes, tight. “Alright.” Open them again, and he’s even closer.

“An’ I know you love me like that, too.” Even closer now, two sets of blue eyes boring into one another, quick inhales coming from me so as not to take in too much of _his_ air, _his_ scent, _his_ breath, slow exhales coming from him without a care.

We kiss and it feels clumsier than I’d like. But it’s nice enough that, despite my great desire to, I can’t pull away. No, I don’t want to pull away. I won’t. I couldn’t if I fucking tried, cos it’s all dawning on me now, our kid’s here with his lips up against mine and I feel the tip of his tongue just barely flick out over my mouth and it’s too, too, too much. He hums a bit, a tiny, contended noise, and I feel like my brain’s fallen out my ear, all my sense lost, only him here now, Liam, _my_ Liam. He breaks the kiss after quite some time, out of breath, doing nothing but smiling up at me. I try to forget that he’s my brother, if only for tonight.

I hold his hand, the other on his back, resting there tentatively. He curls himself into me, much like he had earlier that day. His hair is soft, his skin warm. I feel myself starting to fall asleep, T. Rex still playing softly in the background.

_I got stars in my beard  
And I feel real weird for you_

“Love you,” Liam mumbles against my shoulder, but it comes out as “ _Wvmmh”._


	2. ballycroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter honestly takes a lot of suspension of disbelief... (gimme a break i was still new to the ship then!)
> 
> altho for some reason it's quite geographically correct?? lmao priorities

**_II. Ballycroy_ **

Every once in a while I get the feeling we’re too old for this.

 _This_ being the whole thing, the whole mess, and also each little _this_ and _that_ , the way we drink, the way we talk, the way we do everything together. And today we’re no better, clutching childhood memories like they could stand up and walk alongside us.

We used to go to the country, to Ireland, almost every year, visiting Mam’s family in Swinford. I’d not been in years, not since I was seventeen or so, but Liam is seventeen now and Liam’s the baby and Liam’s been forced into going just once more. And because he’s Liam he stares at me when Mam tells him he’s got to go, and without thinking I chime in that I’m up for a visit as well. I'll be leaving next month anyway, with the Carpets, so I figure it's only fair to spend some time with family before I fuck off for a year.

I’ll never forget how it was when we were kids – every bleedin’ year, without fail, he’d at some point catch a glimpse of the mountains that stretched out westward of where we were, and from that moment on the entire trip was him whining about how badly he wanted to climb a fuckin’ mountain.

After all that’s happened the last year, it’s no surprise to me – or to him – that I finally gave in. He’d grown a smug smirk on his face and my knuckles went white.

So here we are. He’s seventeen now, not seven but with the way he acts you forget that sometimes – sometimes, not all the time – and today we’re in the cheap shit car I hauled off the property, we're in the middle of fuck-all so who gives a damn that I can barely drive? Not Liam. It's just a forty-minute drive and then we’re there, we’re in the mountains.

“Ballycroy,” Liam says absently. His feet are up on the dashboard, Adidas caked with mud from the short trek to the car.

“Wha’?”

“Ballycroy.”

I glance over at him. He’s got his index finger in his mouth, sucking on the tip of it while he stares out his window. “Yes, I got that, wha’s it mean?”

“S’what the sign said. S’where we’re ‘eaded.” Still sucking his finger, still staring out the window. God only knows why he does the things he does. I look out my window instead. To our right is a vast, deep blue lake, and directly across it, the peak our kid’s been hung up on longer than he can even remember.

He’s seen me looking, looking at _his_ mountain (much like how he’s _my_ brother, with a deliberate possessive quality) and I see a flicker of pride in his eyes, for the simple fact I’ve acknowledged something he digs.

“It’s called Nephin. The mountain.”

I don’t ask how he knows. Last I’d checked, he couldn’t define the word ‘atlas’ if you asked him to, so this was just another William John Paul Gallagher mystery to file away with the dozens of others I’d collected throughout my life. I smile. He smiles. He frowns. Then—

“Why’d you let me get what I want, Noel? Why today? I ‘aven’t been good, an’ I ‘aven’t been bad, and I don’t fuckin’ underst—”

“’Cos I hate you, kid, and I love you, and you’re a fuckin’ cunt. And I love you.”

●●●

It’s two hours later and though I’m just slightly ahead of him I halt my step so his foot reaches ahead. His mouth drops open and he turns his head towards me, brows stretched high above his ocean eyes, absolutely in awe.

Before I know it he’s swung his head ‘round again, and now he’s bounding off, limbs flying in every direction, breathy voice proclaiming that _WE’VE MADE IT NOELY!_ and I’m laughing but I’ve got to focus, got to hold onto his shoulders so he doesn’t go tumbling down Nephin. And, well, we’re here now, we’re touching, we might as well keep going. “ _We’ve made it, Noely,_ ” he whispers now, into my chin more than my actual ear. His breath makes the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end. Silently, I drop to the grassy ground and pull him with me.

“You’re all sweaty,” he notes, voice mild and slow, still affected by the joint we’d smoked halfway through our climb.

“I know.” I’ve got nothing better to say. ‘Course I’m fuckin’ sweaty. What else is there to say about a comment like that?

“Bu’ I don’t mind.”

“I know.”

His lips are dry when mine meet them. I go the extra mile, go ahead and lick ‘em for him, save him the trouble. He moans and I find it ridiculous, but say nothing, not wanting to embarrass him and risk him fucking off for once.

Soon he breaks away, only to blurt out “I know, I know, I Noel” before he traces his tongue down my jaw, my Adam’s apple, closer and closer to my collarbone, to the smooth, thin skin that lies just above it (one of his favourite places to mark me). I’m amazed.

He’s fucking like that – the way he _is_ – even during sex and it’s infuriating and straddles the line between absurd and sexy, a line that’d previously never appeared to me. _I know, I know, I Noel_ , I think. Fucking absurd. Fucking sexy.

Even when he’s spitting out these phrases, we don’t _need_ to talk, it’s like we’re already talking, like we’ve always _been_ talking. I hate him, more than anything, for the clichés he forces me to dwell upon.

All at once, he’s pushed me to my back, throwing his leg over my hip, face suspended over mine with the cloud-obscured sun shining around his head like a halo. Practically kissing with our teeth now, we have little time for breath but I’ve got to stop him when he starts panting.

“Christ, Liam, slow down. You’ll ‘ave a heart attack. I’ll ‘ave to carry you down this whole fuckin’ mountain.”

His breath is coming in tiny bursts but I see him trying to slow it down. His lips part and before my mind’s moved past that image, I register that he’s asked me, “You ever sucked cock before?”

My mind’s looping back around because I can’t process it right away because who _says_ that? Everything he says, I could respond with “ _Christ_ , Liam”, and it’d still fit. A fuckin’ trip, this kid is, I think for what must be the millionth time. I begin to realize that I haven’t answered his question yet – the joint’s made me slow as well – but eventually I’m still just looking at his eyes and the time’s passed to even respond. Without breaking eye contact, he ghosts his fingers over my zipper. I try to hold my breath in.

Soon enough my jeans are pushed down just far enough for him to wrap a hand around my dick. His hands always seem to be the perfect size for me, a disgusting thought, really, but one that makes me smile. I stroke his hair, brushing at his earlobe with my thumb. He squeezes me, I gasp, swirls his own thumb around the tip, tracking through the clear liquid there, I push my eyes shut.

“Noel.”

All I get out is a low sigh.

“Noel.”

I manage a bit of a groan this time, but apparently that’s still not enough to qualify as “attention” in Liam’s world.

“Noel!”

“Yeah?!”

He pecks me on the lips, then moves back down, kneeling over my legs now. Our eyes stay latched on the others’, and he looks a perplexing mix of serious and light-hearted, eyes icy but covered with that slight shine that slips over them when he’s happy.

“I’m, like, go’na suck you off, now.”

It’s shocking, enough to knock me off my feet were I standing and before I’ve got a chance to say a thing Liam’s mouth is _there_ , his warm breath reaching me where I’m most sensitive.

I’m hit with that doubt, feelings of disgust and hatred for myself, that vicious pull I haven’t had since just after this all started. But it’s gone in a split second as he – blue eyes tilted upwards, always, mind – closes the gap and his _lips_ and his _tongue_ are _on my fucking cock_.

He tries every technique I’ve ever seen in porno or had done to me, giving each a fair shot before he moves onto the next. He’s like a student, too, watching what drives me mad and bringing my favourites back again, twice, three times.

At times, he’s slow and measured, holding his breath like a good boy. These are the “moves”, so to speak, that leave me groaning and straining not to jam my dick down his _fucking_ throat already. The slo-o-o-ow tongue up the side, carefully into the slit, around the head, under its ridge, over the thickest vein, back down and up and down. I moan, loudly, completely beyond myself, as he presses the softest kisses onto the head of my cock.

He is, in other moments, frenzied and uncaring – not about me, but about logic, convention and common sense (these moments, while wonderful in their own way, are accompanied by his dirty rambling, including a few bizarre fantasies of his, one of which is simply him sucking my dick at the dinner table). He’s rough, and I’m rough back, and he loves it, whimpering with me in his mouth. In these moments, he’s showing off, sucking hard and fast and eventually he ends up taking it all the way down his throat, just to prove he can. He’d be smiling like a bastard, of course, if there weren’t a cock in the way. _Serves him right_ , I think.

As he starts his way back up, then down, down to the very base, up, tongue around, then down again, I feel like I’ve been electrocuted. It’s not all physical – I know because I’ve had better blowjobs. I’ve had girls who sucked like porn stars, and Liam’s no expert, nowhere near, but _Liam is Liam_ and that’s why I’m alright with moaning like a fool, that’s why it feels like being hit with a fuckin’ car and a bump of coke all at once.

While he navigates between these two dynamics I build and build and build to what I can tell will be a fucking surreal orgasm. Liam’s motions are obscene and it’s fucking delicious, his hands urgent, eyes pleading. Seeing that pretty little mouth getting fucked is one thing, but knowing it’s _me_ who’s doing it is nothing short of unreal.

A line of saliva (mixed with _my_ precum, I think with a jolt) runs down his chin but he doesn’t bother to wipe it away. _I’m so close,_ I think, then tell him, and he nods frantically, also managing a thoughtful “ _Mmphmb!”_

As I feel it rolling towards me, lips still sucking the life out of me, eyes still blue – _We’ve got the same eyes, you and me_ – I let myself go.

“Yes, come on Liam, _yes,_ fuck, I fuckin’ – no, fuck, keep – _yeaaah, that’s it –_ fuck, you look fucking great on your knees, yeah, ah, _yeah,_ Liam… you make me feel so – so _fuckin’_ good – don’t fucking _stop_ you fucking _tease_ – gi’s that mouth, c’mon – oh, _Liam, I’m gonna fuckin’ come—”_

He pulls off quickly, his hand never stalling, and pants out at me, “Yeah, Noel, fuckin’ do it, yeah—”

I shove his head back down, his tongue’s already out, meeting my tip – “Fucking hell, Liam, _Liam,_ I’m going to… fuck, yeah, stay right fuckin’ there, oh _Liam…_ you’re—you’re—”

And then it’s over. I wrench my eyes open, positively _needing_ to see his face covered in my cum. The sight is enough to make me half-hard again.

He’s sitting there, kneeling, legs splayed apart with his arse nearly on the ground, eyes lidded, mouth hanging open still. White residue covers his lips, some on his chin, a significant amount sitting on his tongue and a bit dripping out, down the corners. He sucks a couple drops off his fingers and I sigh. Eventually, he swallows experimentally, grimacing a bit. I chuckle, not holding it against him, and reach my sleeve towards him so he can clean his face, but he shakes his head, smiling like a madman. He licks around his lips, rubbing his chin and sucking on his fingers again, _desperate._ He looks gorgeous. I tell him. He says he knows, and finishes up grooming himself.

I press a couple small kisses to his mouth when he’s done, and before I know it I’m laughing louder than I have since – fuck, maybe _ever –_ because if you’d told me even thirty minutes ago that I’d soon be sat here on a _mountain_ getting a fucking _blowjob_ from my little brother, I’d have thought it all a big joke. I hold him close to me for what feels like an hour but can really only be a few minutes. During this I manage to get his own cock out of his jeans and bring him off too. I clean his cum off my hand and find I don’t mind it at all.

In the car, he sits like he had on the trip there, feet up, knees bent.

“You’ve got grass stains all over your knees.”

He smirks. “I know, and these’re me new trousers, too… shame, innit?”

I grin too. “’T’s worth it.”

As we drive, I notice he’s looking at me – or rather, past me, out my window – the entire time. When I ask him why, he shrugs, says he just likes _the view_ better. I think about how everyone will see the grass stains on his knees, not knowing the real reason they’re there. I wonder how many teenage boys get their grass stains from sucking off their brothers. I wonder if Liam’s more my brother or my lover or both but I don’t think it’s any of those three. It’s not a single thing and it’s not a mixture of any single things either. It just is.

●●●

As we practically fall through the door, Mam looks up from the kitchen table where she’s sat reading a newspaper. She shakes her head, bemused at our dishevelled appearances.

Liam doesn’t wait for her to ask. “We climbed the mountain.” They carry on about this for just a few moments, and I catch Mam’s eyes briefly meet mine, a slight smile as if she’s thanking me for taking care of him, taking this seven(teen)-year-old off her hands for the day. Soon enough, the kid and I start heading off towards the guest room, worn out and ready for a kip.

“Boys, are you hungry?”

Before I can answer, Liam’s shaking his head, mouth curling into a crooked grin. “No, I’ve just ate, an’ I sure am full.”

His eyes look like blue flames when they meet mine (which are probably the size of tennis balls), about to burst into laughter as he pushes past me up the wooden stairs. _Fucking bastard._

●●●

In the tiny bedroom, the wood planks against our feet somehow feel warm, not chilled, the twin mattress cosy, not cramped… the fabric of our shirts making us too sweaty, but we have to have _some_ fucking caution here. I hold Liam’s body to mine, my chin resting on top of his head, our legs twisted and entwined. I’m not quite asleep yet, but I’m content to lie here, hearing his breath and almost nothing else, not till his voice chimes in.

“Wha’ was your favourite part of today?”

I laugh, trying to be quiet but probably failing. “You on your fuckin’ knees, idiot.”

He practically giggles. “Knew it.” Then biting his lip, he whispers, “I’ve got wild knees for you.” I shake my head in amusement (I think I’ve heard these words before but I can’t place where or when or _why_ – and what the fuck does it matter when I’ve got him to say ‘em.).

We kiss for a bit, eventually too exhausted to do anything but collapse against the other. Liam falls asleep first, and I listen to his heartbeat against my stomach, counting out the times I hear it, fifty-seven before I’m beginning to drift away.

_I’ve got wild knees for you  
On a mountain range_

His head nuzzles against my neck and I shiver. I count another sixteen beats and I’m asleep.


	3. breath

**_III. Breath_ **

We'd tried this before, actually.

We'd tried it because Liam was looking particularly angelic and it was the night before I left with the Inspirals and we were so stoned I could have sworn his lashes were growing as I stared at them.

He had me in his mouth and was moaning _Oh God Noel I fuckin' need you_ and spit was sliding down his chin.

So we'd geared up and I'd stuck 'im with my fingers but then I'd hid my face in his neck while his hand trembled on my hip and I'd muttered _This is so fucking wrong_ and he'd scoffed and said _No, man, it's fucking right_ but I couldn't do it. Not that night.

But he's nineteen next week and tonight he groans he _needs_ me and fuck, I fuckin' need him too.

We'd been in the bedroom for a few hours now, I'd played him I Am the Walrus three times before he practically clawed my face off, pulling me towards him.

"Noel." It came out as a half-growl. I smiled, gingerly pulling myself off him so I could set my guitar down. I felt his hands on my shoulders instantly, whipping me back around and on top of him.

As I stared into icy blue, our breath meeting and mingling in the three or so inches between our mouths, I remembered for a split second that this was my brother underneath me. My baby brother. I remembered the guilt, the pain the first time I kissed him, the first time I touched him. Freak. Pervert. This is incest. We’re _brothers_. This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong. Fire alarms ring in my head and-

I forget it all when he rakes his fingernails up under my shirt. He leans up to suck at my neck; I remember again.

I remember the first time I kissed him, the first time I touched him. The first time he swallowed my cum, licked his lips, the first time he pulled me into the shower and kissed my hair while soap ran down our bodies, him hard against my hip.

It’s not just sex. I love him.

But fuck me if I’ll tell him that right now. Right now I only care about his gasps as I kiss down his torso, pulling his shirt up as I go. Our kid loves it when he gets ‘is nipples rubbed and I used to think it was fucking weird, honestly, but I’ve grown fond of it, if only for the way his whole body shakes under my touch.

“Mmm _mmm Noel—_ ”

Hand shaking just as much as the rest of him, he grips my wrist and pushes my own hand over his jeans, just pressing down on the hardness there. I shift the tiniest bit and he all but _writhes_ on his shitty twin-size bed. Like a fuckin’ snake, he is. Bites like one too.

And with his wet lips and warm skin and the little whimpers coming out his mouth, I’m hungry, I’m starving, I fuckin’ _need_ him.

He knows what’s happening already. I can tell. He’s even faster than me – fucking confusing, really – and our fingers tangle together while we’re rushing to shove down his trousers. His boxers end up coming off as well. Horny bastard.

He’s unbelievably hard, dripping against his stomach. I gather a drop as it makes its way down his side towards the bed. Pushing it to his lips, I smile as he wrinkles his nose and gives me a face, but takes it anyway. Fingers grip my forearms like a vice. I pull back slowly.

“Liam.”

A sultry grin. “Yeah?”

“Tell me what you want.”

He blinks maddeningly slowly, once, twice, three times. He kisses my fingers, then slips his tongue over and around the first two.

“I want you to fuck me. Right now. Right fuckin’ now.”

Absolutely mental.

Once again my fingers go in, but this time they stay. I know he’s probably in pain but he doesn’t show it, bless ‘im. I curve my fingers around, only out of instinct, really, and suddenly Liam moans like I’ve never heard before, nails nearly drawing blood on my arm. He looks like he could cry tears of joy.

 _“Fuck,_ Noely, do that a _gain…”_

I’m stunned. “What did I even _do,_ kid?” My fingers are still in him, albeit nonmoving now. He rolls his hips up, desperate, and I feel my mouth water.

“I don’t fuckin’ _know_ , I don’t _care,_ just do it again, please, Noel— _aaaah!”_ I go faster, getting the hang of it now. I’ve always been a quick learner. “Mmmstop, stop, I’m gonna cum—”

I swiftly pull my hand away. “Yeah, nah, you’re not,” I tease. “Fuckin’ turned you on so fuckin’ fast, I did. You _need_ it.”

“Hm… Noely…”

He’s just barely sweating now, shining on his forehead. He looks fucking beautiful.

Panting like a marathon runner, he still manages to push me backwards, toppling over me. Before I know it I’m in his mouth (for the second time today, actually, greedy wanker). Even with my eyes shut I can see him. Half the experience is the fuckin’ sounds, anyway, and I think fleetingly I should probably be disgusted when he spits over my cock then takes it down his throat again, but I’m past that. So far past it, laughably so. _I fuckin’ enjoy my brother’s mouth on me, and he fuckin’ loves it too, who the fuck cares?_ Only when I’m stoned, or pissed, or fucked up on coke or E or whatever’s the special for the night, can I justify it to myself that way.

“Shit, Liam—Li—Liam, I’m—” He kisses the words out of my mouth. I roll us over, feeling him shiver. Kiss his pale shoulder, his soft neck, his perfect nose. “I love you.” I figure it’s bound to slip out my mouth at some point, might as well throw it out there while I’m still in control of my vocal cords.

“Love you too, but you’re a right cunt.”

“…excuse me?!”

“Yeah, you are, fucker. Would you hurry up, I’m fuckin’ dyin’ here, I need—” his voice falters, “—need _you_.”

With the help of plenty of Vaseline, I push in.

“Ow, fuck, _ow—”_

“Shh, hold on… remember that spot from bef—”

“ _O-ohh…_ ”

I smirk. I’ve got ‘im. Keep moving. Steady now. He’s breathing heavily into my neck, leaving sloppy kisses and careless, forgotten words.

Eventually, he comes so hard he draws blood on my shoulder. I finish inside him fifteen seconds later. It’s fuckin’ godlike.

He complains he feels “slimy” and thuds off to the bathroom. I lean out the window till he comes back, then we share a cigarette, share a kiss.

“I love you.” He tries to nuzzle our noses together like the fuckin’ weirdo he is and I’m laughing too hard to keep still. This earns me a signature pout.

And though his words stir up grand emotions in me, I can’t bring myself to say them back to him. I give him what I can, though.

“You’re a fuckin’ quality shag, you are.”

_With my heart in my hand  
I’m a hungry man for you_

He falls asleep with his lips pressed against my shoulder, where he’d bit it earlier.


End file.
